Legacy
by ceredonia
Summary: Nuriko receives a letter from an old friend, who has a surprise for him. (Trope Bingo 2013; Secret child trope)


Nuriko put down the letter, his hands shaking enough that he nearly ripped the paper doing so. He blinked and felt a tear run down his cheek, and reached up to touch his face. He was crying, but didn't know why. Fear? Happiness? Confusion. Disbelief. So many emotions running throughout his body, they were all fighting to be the first expressed.

He shook his head and stood up, slamming his hands on the desk in front of him. The wood snapped unevenly and collapsed in on itself, covering the floor in debris. Angrily, he bit his tongue, trying to curb his emotions; nothing was going to get figured out if he kept acting like that.

"Is everything okay?" A second later Tamahome was poking his head through his bedroom door, glancing over at the mess. "You, uh…you look like something's wrong."

Nuriko shrugged. "I'm going to be gone for a few days. Let the others know I'm okay. Nothing major. Just some…personal business I need to take care of back home."

"Oh, okay. Are you…" Tamahome hesitated, looking from the pile of wood and personal items back over to Nuriko, who had crossed the room and was already packing a small bag. "Are you sure you don't want anyone to go with you?"

"_No_." He spoke the word so hotly, so _bitterly_ that Tamahome decided to just back out of the room and disappear into the hallway. Nuriko sighed after he knew he was gone, lecturing himself for not being more polite. Ultimately it was his problem, and he didn't want to drag anyone else into it.

Folding two of his more travel-ready outfits into a small bag, he looked over at the small table beside the bed and reached out, picking up a small pouch filled with coins he'd been saving. Trying not to think about how much longer he'd have to save to see that amount again, he tossed the pouch into the travel bag and closed it, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Master Ryuuen!"

Nuriko bowed his head as he walked into the childhood home he so often thought of during his travels with the other warriors. The head servant scurried over and bowed, taking his bag from him.

"Thank you," he said politely, smiling widely.

"What are you doing back here?" The old man frowned. "Is everything all right at the palace?"

"Oh, of course!" Nuriko felt himself slipping into his familiar persona as he waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Don't worry; I just wanted to see the old neighborhood."

"Oh, good." He visibly relaxed and offered to carry Nuriko's bag to his old room. He accepted, and watched the old man toddle off towards the back of the house. Mumbling a quick excuse to the other servant waiting nearby, Nuriko slipped outside and started walking down the street, still remembering each step needed to reach his destination. The dirt beneath his feet was well-worn and packed tightly from so many travelers over the years, and it felt familiar and comforting.

A short time later he was standing in front of a worn doorway, small cracks splintering the wood, stretching out like spider webs to slowly ruin the frame over the course of many years. He raised his hand and tried as hard as he could to lightly knock on the door, knowing if he wasn't careful he would break it apart like his desk.

"Coming!" a voice called from inside, and he took a step back, wringing his hands in front of him. He was scared, and wasn't used to the odd feeling.

A moment later the door creaked open to reveal a young woman standing in the shadow the wood created. Her black hair, hanging in a braid neatly draped over her shoulder, hadn't changed since the last time he'd seen it. She looked slightly more tired than before, but it was to be expected.

"Is it really you?" she asked quietly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

Nuriko nodded. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." She moved back and pulled open the door enough so that he could slip inside. The door closed behind them and he stood awkwardly just inside, looking around at the small home. It was decorated sparsely, but with obvious care. She waved him over to a small table and he followed, settling into a chair across from her.

"Thanks for coming," she said, brushing a piece of hair away from her eyes. She looked like she was going to burst into tears at any moment. "I'm so sorry for taking you away from the palace. I've heard the rumors, that the Miko is here. I know you have important things to be taking care of—"

"Shh." Nuriko reached across the table and placed a hand over hers, smiling. "This is just as important."

She opened her mouth to protest, but the shrill cry of a child interrupted her. She excused herself and left the room, heading for one of the bedrooms. Nuriko steeled himself and leaned forward, placing his hands on the table, rapping the wood lightly, erratically, trying to keep his mind occupied. Ultimately he failed, and when she returned, carrying a small bundle of blankets, his heart stopped.

A tiny head of lavender hair poked out from the soft pink blanket, two expressive eyes looking out at him. He slowly rose to his feet and swallowed the lump in his throat, reaching out to touch the small head. A tiny hand materialized from the blanket, reaching out to grab his finger, squeezing it tightly. He winced slightly and started crying, unable to hold in the tears. All his doubts instantly washed away.

"I named her Korin," the young woman said. He looked up at her to see tears staining her cheeks as well. "She would have appreciated the gesture."

"Yeah, she would have."

He had been prepared to think of the situation as a burden, a mistake, an error in judgment. A short trip back home once the Miko arrived had sidetracked into seeing old friends, and _she_ had been there—Korin's closest childhood friend, the only one who had known her as well as he had, the only one who understood why he lived his life the way he did. They shared an evening together, and it was both their first time, but they understood it wasn't meant to last. He was still a child himself in many ways, even though he had dedicated his life to his celestial destiny.

"How…I mean, what…" Nuriko stopped himself, trying to find the right words.

"I can take care of her," she said, a smile spreading across her lips. "I'm stronger than I look. You know how that is."

He laughed, feeling relieved. "Oh, I know. You always were. I was the weak one."

"No, you've always been there for us."

"But I didn't know until—"

Korin let out a squeal and they both jumped, laughing as the baby continued gurgling. Nuriko bowed his head sadly.

"I can't stay long," he whispered, stroking the child's head softly.

"I know. I didn't have any expectation that you could," she replied, offering him the bundle. He took it and stared down into the wide eyes of his daughter, fighting back the urge to start crying again.

"I'm sorry. I can pay—"

"We're just fine," she interrupted, shaking her head. "I refuse to be seen as a burden. She's your daughter, and you can visit any time you want. I understand the situation. Her father is a hero, after all."

"I'm no hero," he said, shaking his head. "I'm just a warrior. Not even the best one."

"Of course you are. You have so much strength, both physically and emotionally. They're lucky to have you."

"Thank you."

"You probably have to be going soon, don't you?"

Nuriko looked up to see a look of sadness cross over her face. He smiled and shook his head, bouncing Korin lightly in his arms. "I'm going to stay for a few days," he assured her, and she smiled back.

"Are you sure?"

"It's not every day I'm going to get to see my beautiful daughter," he replied, bending his head down to kiss Korin's forehead. She let out a few noises and started puckering her face.

"I think she's hungry," she said, reaching for her. Nuriko handed her back without a fight.

"Can I help?"

They shared a look and she nodded, a few tears rolling unchecked down her face. "Of course."


End file.
